


Clair de lune

by MrsnMrsAird



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsnMrsAird/pseuds/MrsnMrsAird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was an ocean; beautiful, serene but within its depths held the most terrible creatures which stemmed from the nightmares of nature, and what she saw was the moon; radiating off of other’s light, shy and distant but alluring and fascinating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clair de lune

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an experiment. It started as an angst fic and quickly fell into a continued metaphor. so let me know if its okay. The muse was strong for this one so it had to be written.

Cigarettes and alcohol don’t seem to have the same effect now. Maybe they would have continued to bring that same false sense of content they brought along with the headache before, now there is more of the headache and none of the relief. Cigarettes taste of charcoal and acid, spilling into her lungs, poisoning and clogging their walls and alcohol holds none of its flavour anymore, just the burning bitterness as it makes its way to her stomach, swirling around like the manifestation of contempt. And yet she can’t stop burying herself into an early grave with them, had she listened beforehand, maybe they would still make her feel like she’s being buried in a cushioned coffin, it’s better than being buried alive.

 

Could she have avoided all of this? Had she stopped herself from following this pull she felt so strongly. She was an ocean; beautiful, serene but within its depths held the most terrible creatures which stemmed from the nightmares of nature, and what she saw was the moon; radiating off of other’s light, shy and distant but alluring and fascinating. The moon pulled the ocean towards itself, making violent tides that would crash against age old rocks and shatter them, even the ones that stood the strongest would crumble with time. Yet the ocean had no choice but to oblige to the moon, it knew of it’s destructive nature and dreaded the day the moon would unleash a tsunami.

She walked across the store, why was she nervous? What made her heart giddy like that? She was endeared by the way she saw her talk of trains, the blush on her cheeks when bent to write on the C.O.D slip, the silly Santa hat and her olive eyes. Transactions were made, Merry Christmas said and she carried the little conversation in her head with a smile, maybe the warmth it filled her with made her forget the chill of her fingers as she drove without her gloves.

‘Salutations from Frankenberg’s Department Store.  
\- Employee 645- A’

The sun shone, colouring her ocean in deep oranges and yellows, it rose in her life with a single hairbrush, full of hazel hair and “mommy” being shouted through the air. She had to protect this sunshine, the only light she had in her life. There was a battle raging inside her, threatening to rip her to shreds. Nothing in her life a constant and after years of feigned domesticity, even what was a ripple in a pond it could reduce her to rubble.

 

She should have stopped then, stopped the minute she felt again. But at night, where the sun wasn’t to be found, what else can one do but take comfort in the moonlight. A simple lunch wouldn’t hurt now would it, to show her gratitude, what could come of an innocent lunch. The same as usual, creamed spinach over poached eggs and a dry martini. She watched her smoke with effort, shifting in her seat, obviously feeling out of place, what had this girl thought, what was she thinking? The weight of the question would be too much so the origin of her name would do.

“Therese Belivet. That’s lovely”

She tasted the name, rolled it off her tongue like smoke. The martini brought a new burn to it, a fire that could be because of the company she found herself with or the constant argument her mind was in that she always burnt away with alcohol. Stopping now would have been wise but the sight of her smile turned her to a babbling fool so she did what fools do and she gambled.

Trees decorated, piano played, comfortable silences shared. Maybe this is the content she looked for in bottles of brown and red. How could she have stopped then when she had finally known a joy she looked for all her life, even if it was short lived.

“Invite me round”

Then went the stars, over cast and hidden behind clouds of black and grey. Harge had come over and Rindy had to go be with her grandparents for Christmas. What use was arguing with him? It’s not like he would listen. She packed Rindy’s bag carefully, once she locked it she already missed the fabric of Rindy’s clothes as if it were her own skin.

“There is room for you in the car mommy”

How her heart had sank and wept for what she was doing to this poor girls life. Rindy deserved a whole family and she cursed herself for not being able to give her that. She could’ve taken the pain of being burnt alive but seeing her child leave would’ve still hurt more. She had never ached for a cigarette more, for its fumes to fill her with its poison and take her churning guts out with its smoke.

 

The sky turned stormy, the sun had left and the moon now hid. The way from the train station to her house had been darker the second time around. Don’t call her, Don’t call her, Don’t call her, Don’t call her, Don’t call her.

Please call her.

The ocean sought out the moon behind the clouds. The clouds loomed, angry and dark, gurgling with fury, it now eclipsed the sun. She would have to face the storm to see the sun but she couldn’t. So she ran into the moonlight, away from the storm. How stupid was she to think she could out run the storm? But she still ran. Away like a child.

And just like a child who sat in the back seat of the car, looking out of the window, wondering why the moon followed them everywhere, She was enamoured, intrigued, fascinated. Why did it show up everywhere? Did it have a dark side? Why did it show only some of itself at a time?

Why didn’t she stop then? When her own child was threatened? Why did she run away? Maybe reality was far too much to handle so she took the one thing that was far from reality to her and drove west. On to the open road and into the horizon, where the storms couldn’t follow, she felt new, alive and then there was no stopping her, for better or for worse.

 

Music filled ears and alcohol warmed her. Now it tasted sweet with a promise of life.

“Smell That”

Alcohol had never been as intoxicating as that moment she felt her breath on her neck, lips a breathe apart. She watched her pull away and search for her drink. What that glass had held wasn’t as addling as the desire in the air in that moment.

Stolen glances in the car, touches and caresses here and there, set her ablaze. She was a cigarette being inhaled by this girl and she found purpose in that. Everything she saw her do, taking a picture, looking out of the window, asking a question it had this curiosity as if even the most banal things held the wonders of the world. She would do anything for this girl even if it turned her to ash.

“I am not alone this year”

Champagne tasted better paired with her lips than it did with any thing else. No alcohol felt better than she did. No cigarette calmed her like she did. No song sounded as sweet as her moans and gasps did. What they held in that moment was magic of the most divine order. Is this what people looked for when they sought nirvana, she thought.

The ocean and the moon swayed together that night. The full moon in its glory, the pull towards the ocean never stronger, tides danced in moonlight, shimmering, a canvas of blue and silver. Tides grew stronger and taller, crashing and breaking every rock around it. Now the ocean opened to the moon, vast and unhindered by stone and the moon shimmered and gleamed.

“My angel, Flung out of space”

But now the storm had caught up to her and it raged war across the once serene ocean. The clouds rolled, dark and belligerent, she thought she would never see the sun again and that the grey skies was all that was fated to her. It was like the moon fell out of the sky.

 

She knew alcohol couldn’t soothe her, neither could cigarettes, the two things she used to kill her feelings and numb her soul, the two things that were always there whether she celebrated or mourned, had started to betray her. And she could have done without them, she could’ve buried herself in chestnut hair and porcelain skin, she could replace the nicotine in her system with her but like everything she’s known, this too was to be lost to the storm, the clouds now eclipsed the moon too, all she had left was the dark, where she would spend her whole life hiding her heart away.

She slipped out of bed before the sun woke up. Cigarette found her mouth before sound reached her ears. She would have to go, leave her soul here and go on empty, waiting to be filled in. She had written the same letter 5 times by now, what could she say? She could try and explain herself or lie about how everything would work out, but what use were words to a broken heart? And so the letter bore sincere words of apology, of a painfully made choice, of admittance and some of hope. She neatly folded her blue polka dot pyjamas, silly things but they were so characteristic of their owner that she couldn’t help but love them, placed them on the opposite bed and in the dead silence of the early morning, she slowly made her way to her twin bed and placed a kiss on her forehead, breathing her in and hoping, wishing, praying that this wouldn’t be the last time she could do that. That one-day her daydreams of waking up next to her beauty would come true.

It was a beautiful morning. Sun out, air breezy, spring was on its way. It was as if the world mocked her, basking in her misery. Her internal strife ripped at her composure as she made her way through the airport. She was unsettlingly poise and stiff, as if even a pin drop would set her off, like a ticking time bomb. She had to practice her housewife routine again, chagrin and oh so complying and what better place to do it other than a hall full of strangers. How she had forgotten what holding back her tears felt like, she laughed at herself, she knew it was a luxury not to become accustomed to but she was a fool, so she did was fools do and she failed.

 

Alcohol did nothing and cigarettes were a force of habit now. Everyday she descended closer and closer to complete and utter chaos. Psychotherapists trying to deny her existence didn’t have to work too hard when she recited those same words to herself every night even before this. They didn’t have to keep reminding her to forget this phase, how it was selfish of her to destroy her family like this, how she was immoral and cruel for this, how Rindy deserved a better mother, she had already seared all of those words into her own skin, festering in them like she had been doing the minute she bought that train set. Nothing could calm the ocean now; the creatures within it grew desperate without any light, neither from the sun nor from the moon.

She was crumbling to pieces, but she had to do this for Rindy, she had to be a mother. She had to bear the rain of words that cut like knives; she had to bear the scrutiny of every eye; she had to leave whatever dreams of her that she mulled over every night; she had to attend lunch, she had to meet lawyers, she had to be normal, she had to be sane, she had to burn the photo in her billfold. She had to she had to she had to she had to she had to she had to she had to she had to she had to.

She recited that mantra like a broken record, until she couldn’t.

“I don’t think I can keep this up, Abby”

The ocean was tired now. Vast expanse of emptiness lay still, in the darkness of a sunless sky. It couldn’t fight for the sun anymore, the clouds had won and it yearned for light. Then the moon shone through the clouds, a waning crescent and after months of inactivity, the tides pulled towards the moon again. The ocean came to life, longing the silver tendrils of moonlight. She couldn’t give up the sun but the moon reflected the sun in its own way and after all, what use was the sun if the life of the ocean died? So she gave into the moonlight, because she was a fool and that’s what fools do, they love.

* * *

Cigarettes and alcohol don’t seem to have the same effect now. The flavour of alcohol is highlighted best when Carol kisses Therese after a night of celebration. Cigarettes are a slowly forgotten habit because who needs nicotine when she had Therese making her breakfast and waking her up with kisses. Both now accentuate the joy she feels and she no longer clings on to them like a crutch. Carol found the happiness she looked for at the end of martini in Therese. She found the eternal sunrise, an everlasting love that she dreamed of. Carol found a purpose in loving Therese, a purpose to which is was wholly devoted and always would be till her life found it’s eclipse.


End file.
